


having his back

by vannral



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Banter, Bodyguard, Happy Ending, M/M, Pining, Protectiveness, Undercover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-10
Updated: 2017-06-05
Packaged: 2018-10-30 10:54:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10875300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vannral/pseuds/vannral
Summary: Snart attends a rich crime boss’s party and needs someone fast to watch his back. That someone being Barry. Barry’s sure he’s gonna die, but hey, at least he gets to eat fancy food. (Plus Snart looks unfairly handsome in his tux.)





	1. the favour

**Author's Note:**

> Hooo boy has it been a long time. I promised to give this a try ABOUT A YEAR AGO, but last year was hell and hectic. But now, I got around writing it. I'm really sorry for taking so long. It's probably got plot holes, but I TRIED OKAY. I've got about 2 ½/3 done, and I think it's the longest thing I've written in English here. Weird. Anyways, I hope you like this!

     “You’re _kidding.”_

The expression on Snart’s face indicates just how much he’s _not_ kidding. At all.  

Barry _gapes_ at him, and he’s pretty sure his jaw is hanging. He sort of wants to giggle. _Because oh my god._ What even is his life anymore.

     “Holy _shit.”_

Snart rolls his eyes. “Don’t back away _now,_ Barry, you owe me a favour”, he reminds him sternly, almost defiantly.

     “The evil, nefarious kind?” Barry says, beaming. “Yeah. I remember. There was blood and – suede. But wow, did you _wait_ for this kinda thing to pop up? ‘Cause let me tell you, the coincidence is like… _wow.”_

It’s almost funny.

Snart _doesn’t_ think so; annoyance and impatience practically _emits_ from him.  

     “Look, this whole thing ain’t ideal to me, either, but unfortunately, I’m running out of options. I need a bodyguard.”

Barry grins. “Cool.”

Snart looks very unimpressed. Too bad, Barry thought _that_ pun would’ve made him at least smile.

     “We’ll see if you still think that when you enter the party of the year.”

    “Why couldn’t Mick do this?” As soon as Barry says that, he wants to kick himself, because there’s a dark shadow on Snart’s face. _Yeah, great going, Allen._

     “Let’s just say…we’re not on speaking terms, yet.”

     “Shit, _sorry,_ I – I didn’t – “

     “Ease up, Red, I’m not made of glass.”

Barry shuts up, unhappy and embarrassed. “Okay. Sorry. I didn’t think you were. Are. Made of glass, I mean. _Crap._ ANYWAY. Seriously, uh – so, why me?”

Snart raises an eyebrow very dryly. “Besides you last time offered so kindly? No reason.”

     “Besides you think I need to be there?”

     “Needing someone fast, being the _point_ ”, Snart corrects, almost like he’s bored. “And last time I checked, you fit the bill. So, congratulations, Barry Allen, you win an invation to a grade-A douchebag’s fancy party.”

     “Okay.” Barry draws a deep breath. He can do this. Totally. No pressure. “So, who is this, uh…douchebag with a fancy party?”

Snart doesn’t quite _relax,_ but he loses some of that tension around his shoulders, and he’s _all_ business, now.

     “An underground elitistic asshole named Robert Burkhart. Also known as ‘Scarhead’.”

     “Wow. That’s like, _so_ a bad guy name.” 

     “Ramon has competition, no doubt”, Snart deadpans. “Anyway, he’s holding this party to gloat and rub it in everyone’s faces how well he’s doing and how everyone else is _not,_ and of course, I need to be there. Appearances. Unfortunately me and… Mr. Scarhead had a little… misunderstanding couple of months ago. Concerning business. So, I don’t like my odds. Thus, you.”

     “Wow, so I’m a back-up plan?”  

Snart rolls his eyes, like he physically _cannot_ handle Barry right now. “Fine, go ahead”, he drawls, bored. “You’re dying to rub it in. You get a free pass.”

     “No! No, I’m not – this is so cool _, and_ I’m totally terrified, ‘cause at least a half of those people wanna kill me, if they find out. By the way, I – don’t really look like a bodyguard material, either. I mean, look at me!”

     “Don’t see your point, you’re fine.”  

     “Are they gonna be threatened by a lanky guy, who can’t really do anything without stumbling into something expensive? And probably break it. Like some antique Chinese vase. ‘Cause that sounds like something I’d do. That’s gonna happen, and then your rep is totally destroyed. Then you’re gonna be sorry that you suggested this.”

     “Aren’t you full of optimism today”, Snart drolls.

     “Hey, I’m just telling you how it’s probably gonna be. I’m a social wreck.”

     “You are many things, but a wreck isn’t one of them.”  

     “No, seriously, I’m not kidding.” 

     “Look, you don’t have to do anything else than to stick by me and make sure no one jumps me. Which I usually can handle by myself, but this time, I don’t have a backup.”

Barry slumps. “Okay. Yeah, I get it, and I’m _not_ against it, really, but just…it’s a little risky.”

     “Don’t try to pretend your whole life isn’t risky _._ Time travel ring a bell? Dimension jumping for example?”

     “Whoa, hey, _easy!_ No need to get all defensive on me, I’m just trying to cover everything, just so you know.”

     “Appreciate the _concern.”_

     “Pfft, yeah, ‘cause you asked me. To be your bodyguard.”

Snart draws a deep, patient breath and rolls his eyes again. “They have a buffet table.”

     “Really? _That’s_ your incentive? ‘Cause it’s not really – “

Barry trails off, because Snart keeps _staring_ at him like that, like he _knows,_ and _seriously,_ a buffet table, Barry’s so _weak._ Well, whatever, if he’s going to do this, he might as well get some fancy food out of it.

     “Yeah, okay.”

Probably _not okay,_ but hey, it could be worse.

                                                                 *

Barry decides that he’s not a fan of undercover work. Yeah,  _no,_  big time, this sucks.  

Not only because this proves to be extremely nerve-wracking, but also because Barry can’t lie all that well.  _‘All that well’_ meaning he lies like a wet rag, and it’s just - clumsy and awkward, and he can’t  _act,_ okay? 

Snart thinks the whole thing is hilarious now. Which is totally unfair, because _he’s_ the target, not Barry, _and yeah._

    “Come on, now, Scarlet, it’s going to be fun”, Snart teases, which is also totally unfair.

Barry has no idea why Snart’s on board with the whole thing; he’s the one, who was growling and tense at first. _Seriously._

    “No, no, it’s gonna go south, because it always _DOES,_ and stop smiling so smugly, you’re in this, too, so  _why_ are you  _smiling?”_

 _”_ Just enjoying your entertaining melt down. Do you always freak out, when you go to parties?“ 

    “Well, yeah -  _no!_ You’re not funny, shut up. It’s a crime boss’s party, where everybody wants to kill me. Probably. If they find out. Just throwing that out there. Again. In case you somehow missed that fact.“ 

    ”They don’t know who you are.” 

    ”Like that’s gonna last? You’re gonna be unhelpful, I just know it.”

Snart rolls his eyes with wry amusement. “Come on, have some faith in me, I have my own interest in this.”

     “Yeah, whatever. I’m probably gonna die.” 

    ”Stop being so dramatic,  _Barry,_ it’ll be fine. That is, if you refrain yourself from unnecessarily flashing your powers. They are thugs, but they do have eyes.”  

    ”I’m not going to – wait, I don’t have to, unless _you_ do something stupid first, like piss the boss off and I need to rescue you. ‘Cause I’m _your bodyguard.”_

    ”You’re a _back-up_ plan in case _someone_ decides to play dirty and shank me in his own party. That’s why plans are important.” 

    “Sooo…what about Murphy’s law, you know?” 

    ” _Optimism_ , Red, we talked about this _.”_  

    ”Okay, sooo… if I die, I’m gonna haunt you so bad you wish you had been nicer to me.” 

Snart raises an eyebrow at Barry’s magnificent threat. ”You’re so cute”, he drawls.  

(Barry still can’t believe this is really happening.)

 

                                                                 *

He’s wearing a tux. 

     “Ease up on the twitching, _Barry_ ”, Snart clicks his tongue as he’s putting on cufflinks with practised ease.

     “I have another rant on the way, in case you wanna hear?” Barry says, because this whole thing sits wrong in his skin.  

     “I have a wild guess it involves the same complaining as before.”

     “’s not really complaining? Not really, there’s a point to it.”

Snart actually pauses to considerate that. “Huh. Guessed wrong, then. Don’t worry, we’ll smoothe some ruffled feathers for couple of hours, and then we leave.”

     “Un-shanked.”

     “Ideally.”  

After breathing deeply for a few times, Barry calms down.

 Yeah, he can do this. Totally. He’s fast, he can protect Snart. He can be a bodyguard, no big deal.

_Stop being so whiny._

Snart looks actually pretty nice in his tux, Barry notes. Pretty _handsome,_ more like. Clean-shaven and kind of cool, to be honest. No pun intended. _Then_ it catches to Barry what he just thought and blushing he wants to kick himself. _Yeah, focus, you idiot._  

     “Sooo…any tips for me? You know, ‘don’t stare at that guy, ‘cause he’s got like, a face missing’ or don’t – you know, do anything?”

The older man snorts. “Well, now that you mentioned, there’s one guy who licks his knives”, he drawls sardonically, and Barry isn’t sure if he’s joking or not. _Probably not._

     “Seriously? Gross. I thought that only happens in movies.”

     “Hmmh, he likes to think it makes him… indimitating.”

     “It sounds so _dirty.”_

     “You asked.”

     “Are the knives poisoned? ‘Cause that seems like…counter productive, if he licks them. Probably not, if he’s still alive, though.”

To Barry’s surprise Snart barks out a rough laugh, and it stuns Barry to silence. _Whoa. I’ve never heard Snart laugh._ Like, actually _laugh._ Silly warmth spreads into his chest, and he _tries,_ but it does feel like some kind of awesome accomplishment. He can’t help, but to grin.

Snart probably thinks that’s enough of _that_ , because he straightens and says:

     “Fine, let’s get this show on the road.”  

Barry draws a deep breath. “Okay. Okay, I’m cool, I’m cool.”

     “Could be a _little_ cooler. The trembling doesn’t help. Dead giveaway.”

     “Shut up. _You’re_ dead giveaway.”

Snart smirks. “Stunning. I always did enjoy your sense of humour.”

     “Not really helping, you know.”

                                                                 *

The rich douchebag’s house is kind of jaw-dropping. It’s more like a mansion, Barry thinks, a little worried, as they get out of the car.  

     “Easy now, Scarlet”, he hears Snart say quietly under his breath. “Don’t slouch.”

Barry yanks back up, startled. “I _told_ you I don’t look like a bodyguard”, he whispers nervously. “I’m totally winging it, ‘cause this is not gonna fool anyone. They know what a bodyguard should look _like.”_

     “Just scowl ahead, you’ll be fine.”

     “Uh, what’s an evil bodyguard scowl? Like this?”

Barry scowls, but it feels _wrong._ Fake. _Pretend._ Like a mask. (He’s not that good at acting, okay, what do you want from him?)

Snart stares at him. Then, he sighs deeply. “No one’s gonna be intimidated by your puppy eyes.”

     “Wait, I don’t look like a – see, I told you!”  

     “Got no other, so deal with it, Red. I’m gonna make sure to hang around the buffet table, so you get at least _something_  from this night.”

It’s not exactly _mocking,_ not really. “Thanks.” Then, something else occurs to him. “Should I wear a mask? Like a – clown mask. Ooh, maybe we can get a horse mask.”

     “ _No.”_

     “You’re no fun.”

     “Newsflash, _sweetheart_ , these things aren’t supposed to be fun _._ It’s a big ugly pissing contest with occasional murder, so don’t get jumpy.”

Barry winkles his nose. “No offense, but you don’t really seem like the type to, you know, enjoy _being there._ “

     “Can’t picture me here, huh? Well, you’re not exactly wrong. Politics are _dirty_ business, and I don’t play nice with others.”

     “Probably depends of the person, I guess?”

Snart pauses, almost stops, and he _looks_ at Barry under his eyebrows, like he’s trying to gauge something. It doesn’t make Barry uncomfortable, exactly, but flustered; heat crawls into his neck.

 _Why_ does he always have to say something stupid and awkward?

     “Yeah”, Snart finally says, and there’s a small, sardonic smile on his lips, but still, it’s not exactly _unkind,_ if Barry interprets that right. (He hopes he does.) “Maybe it does.”

Then, he turns toward the house. “Ease up.”

Yeah, _let’s get this show on the road._


	2. the party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Barry steps into the lion's den and he's very much on edge.

They see _him_ after Burkhart’s guards check for weapons and allow them in.

Mr. Douchebag, Robert Burkhart, ‘Scarhead’ is a large, bald man in an expensive suit, and he looks every bit just like a Bond villain Barry’s been picturing in his head.

It’s kind of ridiculous, and Barry has hard time to stop _staring_ at him. Because _seriously,_ there is a large, white scar going across his face, _just like in the movies._

(Barry’s half-expecting him to burst into maniacal laughter)

Burkhart himself is greeting his guests in the lobby, and Barry can tell the exact second that he spots Snart. His eyes narrow for a fleeting second, and _then,_ he organises his expression into a well polished,  wide smile that isn’t fooling anyone.

_Yep, he totally wants to stab Snart._

     “Snart!” Burkhart booms, and Snart doesn’t quite _stiffen,_ but if he was a dog, his ears would’ve been flat against his head.

     “Pleasure as always”, he replies smoothly, and it’s _such_ bullshit.

     “Likewise, my friend, I heard such curious rumours about your latest heist, and frankly, I’m dying to know if you managed to sell _those_ off yet.”

     “Wouldn’t you like to know”, deadpans Snart, and _really,_ does he _want_ to get shanked? He’s not really making this easy, _Jesus._

To Barry’s surprise, Burkhart howls with laughter. “Good man, good man! Keeping those cards close to your chest, I like that. Very…smart, now isn’t it. Now, who is this?"

Barry opens his mouth, wondering if it’s okay for him to answer, but Snart interrupts: “ _Obviously_ he’s my plus one, the eyes on my back, the ace up in my sleeve, or so to speak, take your pick. Try to keep up, Burkhart.” 

_And he’s just telling that? Oh my god._ Burkhart eyes Barry, long and sleazy, and it lingers a little too long on his body for Barry’s liking, all clinging and _heavy_. “Is he, now? Where on Earth did you find him, I wonder? All that sleek muscle…”

Barry’s jaw _doesn’t_ drop. _Now wait a minute – !_

     “Let me assure he wears it well”, replies Snart, drawling.

     “You would know, now wouldn’t you, Snart. Soft spots and all of that, now, right?”  

     “Not to be rude – “ Snart totally _is, “ –_ it’s _none_ of your business.”

Burkhart laughs again, with what _seems_ to be genuine mirth and gestures the hallway.

     “Very well, keep your secrets, Snart! Run along, now, have a drink, enjoy the party, and be sure to stay around, I want to discuss certain matters with you.”

     “Evidently”, Snart sneers _,_ but somehow Mr. Burkhart doesn’t take it as offense as he ushers them inside.

     “You’re insane, I can’t believe you.”

     “I’m not sucking up to him, Red.”

     “Okay, whatever, I just thought about something else. Did you consider that if I _do_ need to use my powers, there are _cameras_ here?”

     “You of all people should know that technology isn’t all that reliable, _Red.”_

     “Sooo…okay, we bust them up before we leave?”

     “Bull’s eye.”

     “Okay, awesome.” He can totally work with this. At least that what he thinks, until they step into the ballroom.

There’s lots of people in the ballroom.

Lots of _criminals_ in the ballroom.

Barry suddenly feels awkward, _anxious;_ his breath stutters in his throat, and he starts to get jittery. Snart stops, puts his hand on the small of Barry’s back and to an outsider, it looks like Snart’s just guiding Barry out of the way, but then, Snart mutters:

     “Stop fidgeting. These assholes are gonna smell blood in the water, and you’re looking like bait.” 

     “Feels like that, yeah, pretty much.”

     “So calm the hell down. Else you look too good to be in a place like this.”

     “Are you trying a pick-up-line on me, Snart?” Barry grins a little breathlessly, and he just can’t _help_ it. His filter doesn’t work too well right now. He blames the stress. (No, it’s him. It’s so unbearably, _stupidly_ him.)

Snart’s jaw clenches, and he turns so very slightly that they are closer than before. Then again, personal space has never been an _issue_ between them.

     “Now, now, I could do a lot better than that line.”  

     “D’aww, Snart, I didn’t know you – “

     “Shut up now, Red.”

     “Shutting up.”

+

Barry’s trying. He’s _trying_ so hard he’s at least 45 % sure he’s gonna bust a blood vessel at some point, and then Snart’s gonna be _sorry._

The first five minutes consists of him straightening his posture, looking as threatening as possible – which maybe doesn’t work as well as he’s hoping, since Snart keeps rolling his eyes at him.

     “Ease up. _I_ can handle this. The night’s still early, he wouldn’t want to do anything drastic just yet, if I know him at all.”

     “ _That’s_ your guess? What, he scheduled your – _assassination?”_

      “So _dramatic_. He wants an audience, to make a spectacle out of it, _if_ he does that at _all_. Why don’t you go eat something. You look…cranky”, Snart smirks at him, and Barry’s jaw nearly drops in outrage.

     “Excuse _me – “_

Snart’s smirk twists a little, betraying some wry amusement. “Need to keep that blood sugar up. Can’t have you being all grouchy here.”

     “Grouchy’s _really_ far from what I’m feeling right now”, Barry mutters under his breath.  

Snart opens his mouth – probably to dash another witty line at him, because he’s infuriating like that, but his eyes suddenly narrow, and it takes Barry a moment to realize that Snart’s actually glaring _behind him._

Barry risks a glance behind his shoulder and is actually surprised to see a woman with some really impressive eyeliner skills slink back.

     “Know her?” Barry asks curiously.

     “I know everyone”, Snart replies, his lips twisting downwards in utter distaste. “Watch your back. These people play _dirty.”_

     “Oh, wow, imagine that, criminals who play dirty. I had no idea. Thanks.”

     “Aren’t you cute.”

     “Shut up, _Mr._ Snart.”

Snart pauses, and something darkens, ever so slightly in his gaze, something that jolts in Barry’s bones like a lightning, white-hot and sizzling, and his cheeks flush bright crimson. _Nope, pedal back, pedal back, you’re imagining things._  

     “Uh, yeah, okay, I’m – I’m gonna go eat. Uh, is that okay? No, you said it’s okay. I’ll shut up. So, do I come to - ?”

     “No, I’ll handle this. Go on.”

Barry’s still not buying it; he glances back uncertainly but retreats to the buffet table, keeping an eye on Snart, nonetheless. _He promised. They made a deal._

+

Another thing that Barry learns in five minutes is that apparently secretively stuffing his face by the table is a big neon sign for everyone to read as ‘hey, come talk to me’. 

Snart’s chatting with some people – and Barry can recognise that ‘I’m smooth and pulling the carpet under you before you can say ‘get iced’’- look of his. Fine. _Have fun, Snart._

Although Barry can’t deny that Snart _isn’t_ in his element; he knows how to play this crowd, and even Barry has to reluctantly admire that.

_Stupid handsome Snart._

     “Excuse me, might I disturb your evening for a bit?”  

Barry nearly chokes on a slice of pheasant and with wide eyes turns to look at a rather dapper looking gentleman. He’s a bit on the younger side compared to all others in the ball room, but his smile is friendly enough.

(Not that it makes Barry feel at ease, _at all_. Nope, he’s currently _hardwired.)_

     “Oh – sure.” Barry feels unwise to point out that he’s on duty (if he can even say that) especially when the man’s just caught him eating like a starving chipmunk.

The man’s eyes sparkle. “Excellent! Are you Snart’s plus one?”

_Why me._

     “Uh, yeah, kinda? I mean, I work for Mr. Snart.”

The man nods his head seriously. “Ah, business, I see, I see, yes, I understand that. Isn’t this grand?” He gestures the glimmering marble dance floor where couples twirl gracefully. “Ah, glamour and good old Burkhart’s fished out his best porceline for this event, too.”

The man steps a little bit closer – way closer than Barry would like, that’s for sure - and he can smell the man’s expensive, thick cologne just clinging onto him like a toxic cloud.  

     “Now, where did Snart find a handsome guy like you for his payroll, hmm?”

Barry fumbles: “Uh, we kinda know each other way back.” Technically it’s not even a lie. Whatever. Snart can deal with this reply _later_ if it bothers him _._

     “Is that so? Really, he doesn’t seem to be like a… _friends_ kind of guy”, the man purrs, inching closer, his hand nearing dangerously Barry’s waist. Barry decides, _nope_ , _don’t_ _even try_ and inches backwards.

Apparently the man grows tired of it, since the next thing he _does_ is to wrap his arm around Barry and say: “Can I have this dance?” 

Barry wrenches himself free and _gapes_ at him. “Are you _serious?”_

To be honest Barry hadn’t even realized this would be a thing. At least for him. Or even an option for that matter. He never expected someone would ask _him_ to _dance. Someone creepy, too, ‘cause – hey, underground party, yay._

In retrospect, he probably should’ve anticipated something like this, but he’d been too occupied with freaking out. _Great going, Allen._

Would the guy stab him if he refused? _Damn, why me._ This is what goes through Barry’s head, all the while he’s inhaling the guy’s stupid cologne and wonders what the hell to do next. Or rather, how to answer _politely_ without losing an eye and/or destroying his cover.

     “Sorry to cut in”, a new voice drawls, and it’s Snart, in his full height, ice cold smirk knitting his lips thinly together.

The man raises his hands. “Easy, easy!” he laughs. _Laughs. What the hell._ “Asking isn’t illegal, Snart! What’s your story with this one?”   

Even in his embarrassment, Barry’s annoyed. _I’m still here, thanks. Way to talk over my head, assholes._

Snart’s smile is paper thin, _cutting._ “Ran into him by an accident”, he says smoothly, and _oooh my GOD, are you serious right now._ Barry resists an urge to face palm himself into the next week.

     “Oh, really? Mind saving me another dance, since Snart seems to be determined to keep you?” the man asks Barry.

     “Uh, maybe later”; Barry says awkwardly. _Like maybe never._

     “It means _no,_ Greenway. I know it’s hard for you to read between the lines”, Snart sneers. The man ignores him, winks lecherously at Barry and retreats to pester a very unimpressed looking woman in a violet dress.

     “Well that was…something. Geez. Thanks.”  

     “Had to step in”, Snart says. “Looked so painful I figured you were two steps away from flashing away.”

     “ _No,_ I could’ve _maybe_ handled it. In time. Also, don’t think I didn’t hear your all ‘ran into him by accident’ thing. I _knew_ you were gonna be unhelpful.”

     “What can I say, a dash of truth makes it believable, Scarlet”, Snart replies with obvious amusement.

     “Well, I’m glad you find this so _funny_. I think I nearly inhaled the whole pheasant. Who was he?”

     “A headache, who mainly manages a seedy gentlemen’s club on the east side.” Snart rolls his eyes. “ _That_ being too generous. Also he unable to grasp certain things, like consent or body language.”

Barry blinks. “Oh. Thanks, by the way.”

     “You’re really bad at this, kid.”

     “Not a kid, and _yeah,_ thanks for noticing. You didn’t warn me about dancing.”

     “Slipped my mind. Why, are you interested in waltzing? Or is tango more… _your_ thing?” Snart asks wryly, still letting his gaze scan the crowd.  

     “No – I mean I’m not against it, either one, _geez,_ I didn’t know it was something like an _option_ here. Also _not_ with him, either, God, he already like tried to squeeze my mid-section. It’s a wonder I didn’t spit the whole pheasant out, ‘cause _that –_ yeah, wouldn’t have ended well.”

Snart turns sharply, raises an eyebrow at him. “You know, you can knee someone in the groin, if they try something you’re not on _board_ with.”

     “Cool. I’ll remember that next time”, Barry mutters.

     “Might even improve _your_ reputation.”  

     “Pfft, great, yeah. _Yay._ Are _you_ gonna dance?” 

Some of the aloofness on Snart’s features mellow a bit _._ “My, my, Scarlet, are you volunteering?” he teases, and Barry’s mouth goes slack.  

     “Uh, I – mean – sure, if it’s – if it’s with you, I guess I don’t mind?” he stammers, his cheeks _burning_ with odd mixture of embarrassment and _shyness._ (Yeah, did he think he could handle this with grace? Yeah, _no.)_

Snart stares at him, not quite squinting with suspicion that Barry no doubt deserves.

     “Well, as much as I _love_ making douchebags like Greenway _green_ with envy, I think I’m gonna take a raincheck on _that_ one, _Red”,_ he finally drawls, stretching the vowels lazily.

     “It’s just a dance”, Barry grumbles nonetheless, his head reeling over with the fact that he – actually _told_ Snart and – meant it. ( _Kind of wanted, too…)_ “But okay. Something else on your mind?”

Snart rubs his chin and scowls ahead. “Bored. This is all fancy and fake and _transparent._ So far? Seen at least two affairs, four pickpockets and one attempted murder.”

     “Holy shit, really? Already? Wow. They don’t waste time at all.”  

     “Sounds like we need to up our game, Red.”

     “ _No._ You’re not upping anything. _”_

     “Touchy. Ruin all my fun, why don’t you.”

     “’Cause it’s my job. Why you hired me. So there. Brought this _all_ on you by yourself.”

Snart’s smirk widens, ever so slightly, and something bright, mischievous sparks in his eyes. Something that makes Barry flush even deeper shade of rose and look away flustered.

     “Guess I did.”  

+

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooookay. So multi-chaptered PLOT fics are not my thing. They aren't. I'm so out of my comfort zone it's not even funny. Short one shots with flimsy plot (if with plot at all) are WAY easier for me, but I'm determined to finish this no matter what. It's good practise for me and I promised and I'm super anxious about this in general. But hey, if you stuck this far, thank you <3 You've been kind.


	3. the office

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *drags hands down the face* Uuuugh. This story's kicking me into a pulp. I've been staring at this stupid chapter for DAYS and I'm so sick of it.

So, of course it goes to shit.

Absolutely _no one_ is surprised.

After an hour and a half, after dodging curious glances and wandering hands of a few people and sticking to Snart’s side, the glamorous lights suddenly go dark. Barry sighs and sets mournfully his plate full of delicious sushi down.

_Yep, totally saw this coming. Too bad, that was really good._

     “Might have some use for you now, Red”, Snart’s voice remarks in a remarkably _bored_ tone somewhere beside him.

     “Yep, guessed as much. Are you okay, still un-stabbed?”

     “Won’t probably last. Ready?”

     “Yup. Out of here?”

     “No, we’ll pay a little visit to Burkhart’s office.”

_Of course._ They just can’t go out and that’ll be that. Barry throws his arms in the air. “You’re awful. And impossible. And don’t blame me if you get shanked.”

     “Gotta keep you on your toes, kid. Let’s go.”

Burkhart’s office is situated on the next floor. It’s all marble, red carpets and oil paintings – all kinds of pretentious – and of course, locked.

     “Oh, Robert, it’s like you want to pose a challenge”, Snart clicks his tongue and proceeds to pick the lock. Like it’s no big deal.

     “You – uh, want me to try it?” Barry asks awkwardly.

     “No, let me work, kid. This beauty doesn’t work like Draycon. Like… your _jam.”_

     “Ugh, c’ _mon.”_

Snart chuckles. Not knowing what else to do, Barry keeps watch and thinks that Snart’s got this covered, but apparently his guarding is useless because most of the staff is working on getting the lights back on.

     “So, uh – did you orchestrate that?”

     “ _No,_ Barry, I want to tempt fate and get stabbed in the dark.”

     “Okay, okay, just asking! Another question; why do you wanna get in there?”

     “Call it…getting even.”

     “Okay, that’s pretty vague, but why?”

     “He poked his nose into business that ain’t his, so I’m showing it’s not gonna fly.”  

Well, Snart wasn’t kidding; it really is a big ugly pissing contest, _oh my god._ Barry opens his mouth to point out so, but stops, because he hears something more alarming. And judging by the way Snart freezes, he’s heard it, too.

_Footsteps._

And they are _approaching them._

Panic slams into Barry; _they are out in the open,_ never mind the dark, it’s not _pitch black,_ they’re gonna get caught, he runs the odds over in his head, _where the hell to hide - ?_

Snart grabs Barry by the tux jacket and yanks him forwars so hard that Barry’s teeth clack together. He drags Barry somewhere behind an expensive looking folding screen that apparently hides a few moving crates.

The footsteps approach them – stop, and Barry can hear their heavy, carefully measured breathing, and _yeah,_ he can see the leather of their shoes. _Goons. Of course. Hi. Please, don’t see us._

That’s what he’s thinking at first, during the first ten seconds, then he notices something very interesting and a little alarming.

He’s very much pressed against Snart. Snart’s chest against his back, and _oh, this is bad…_

Snart’s warmth seeps through Barry’s tux jacket, into his _skin,_ into his _bone marrow_ like liquid fire, blistering, burning, _sweet,_ and Snart’s hand rests calloused, firm and heavy on him, _and God, it feels so good…_

Heat clenches in Barry’s stomach. _Stop it, stop it, you’re in a dangerous situation, stop thinking stupid things –_

The guard stands a feet away from them, and Barry’s heart thunders so hard he’s absolutely sure Snart can feel it, too. Then, he turns and walks down the corridor towards the west wing. Barry sighs in relief, nearly slumping against Snart’s chest –

_And Snart’s still holding his hand on Barry’s waist._

     “Getting a little jumpy, are we?” Snart asks, and Barry shivers.

     “Too close. What the hell.”

Perhaps that is when Snart realizes that _yes,_ he’s still holding Barry, because he lets go, straightens and peers over the folding screen into the darkness. Barry kind of misses the warmth.

     “Gone.”

     “Great. _Thanks._ Do your – your – “ Barry gestures the door clumsily, “thing.” 

Snart raises an eyebrow at him. “My _thing?_ Eloquent, as always. Why not.”

But he kneels by the door again and resumes to his lock picking. Barry has no choice but to keep a look out. _Again._ He waits until he hears the lock click, and the door slides open _._

     “Now, Barry, would be a good time to go destroy the cameras.”  

     “Are you sure?” Barry asks nervously. “What if someone gets a jump on you? Again?”

     “Please, give me _some_ credit. I have the advantage here.”

Barry bites his lip. He doesn’t want to leave Snart alone, but the cameras are _kind of_ important. Just in case. Plus Barry’s not a big fan of having his face floating around the underground. Captain Singh probably would have a few _words_ with him, if he ever found out.      

     “You’re lying, but – can you manage for a few minutes?”

He hears Snart’s scoff. “I will probably _die_ of longing.”

     “Okay, shut up, I got it. I’ll be back in a few.”

He dashes out and takes a few moments to find the control room. Barry tries to figure out how to disable the feed and remove the already existing memory. It takes a few bumbling attempts, but finally Barry is satisfied with the results and speeds back.  

Downstairs are still dark. _Okay, good._  Now to find Snart.

     “Are you in here?” Barry whispers, turning to peek into the office. It’s still dark, and –

No one’s there.

_Oh, this is bad._

Barry panics. Where the hell is Snart? Did Burkhart catch him? Is this a trap? His panic ten-folds, when he turns and –

And Barry’s staring directly at Burkhart’s scarred face, and _oh yeah, he’s mad as hell._

     “Well, well, well, look who it is”, Burkhart says with a dangerously velvet voice that can’t be good. “It’s the qualified plus one. Snart’s _ace_ bodyguard _._ ”

_Shit, shit, shit. Okay, let’s wing it._ “Uh, yeah. That’s me. Qualified. I’m looking for Mr. Snart”, Barry explains and tries to manage a sheepish, apologetic look that isn’t quite working in his favour.

     “Oh, it’s _Mr_. Snart, is it? That’s hilarious. Do you know what a treacherous asshole your boss is?”

     “Um, yeah? I _work_ for him”, Barry points out, hoping that Burkhart would buy it. ‘Cause he _kind of_ knows.

     “I don’t think so”, Burkhart snorts. “Do you think I didn’t see how he steered you in the hall? How he didn’t take his _eyes_ off you the whole evening? It seems to me like your roles _are mixed.”_

     “Nope. Not at all. No mixing. I really am working for him. Old pals, me and him. Totally professional.”

Wow, this is too much. _Snart’s staring at him? Don’t think about it, don’t think about it, he’s totally making it up to throw you off  –_

     ”Oh, that’s what he will certainly tell himself”, Burkhart sneers and walks toward him, cornering Barry into his dark office.

Barry’s heart thunders in his chest. What should he do? Burkhart is a big deal, _he’s a crime boss,_ and if he _sees_ Barry flashing around the room, _after seeing his FACE, this – oh, this is so bad…_

Clammy sweat starts to form on Barry’s temples. Burkhart’s black eyes drill into his skull. The air between them is ready to snap. _What should he do?_

     “It’s too bad, to be quite honest”, Burkhart suddenly says, shaking his head. “He should have been more careful in picking his favourites. Taking them into _a lion’s den,_ of all possible places. And then parade his _treasure_ around these hungry beasts and hope they don’t bite?”

     “ _Treasure?_ Wait, _what – “_

Barry’s head swims, everything’s too blurry, thoughts just _scattering_ numbly around in his skull.

_He’s kidding, he has to –_

_Delusional, he has to be, ‘cause Snart doesn’t feel the sa –_

Barry’s mouth goes dry. “He doesn’t – “

Burkhart laughs; it’s an _ugly,_ wretched sound. “If you believe that, you are even denser than I thought. Now, he’s played with fire, been disrespectful and very much a thorn in my side, so what’s better than to send him a rather clear message, don’t you think?”

Burkhart pulls a gun on him. Barry’s eyes widen. And not even a small gun, because _nope,_ these guys are serious, and _that’s gonna rip a hole through my chest and…it’s gonna hurt._

Adrenaline rushes into his blood, nervous energy crackles in his bloostream, in his muscles.

In theory, he _could_ catch the bullet, like he did with Lewis, he _could,_ but Burkhart’s still too close, there’s no way the man would be fooled _–_

     “I’d advise _against_ that”, a familiar voice drawls somewhere behind Burkhart, and Barry’s pulse jumps. Snart is half-hidden with shadows, painting his features sharp, _dangerous._

And he’s got his cold gun’s barrel pressed against Burkhart’s head. Barry’s not even gonna ask where the hell he got that.

     “You silent bastard”, Burkhart laughs, but his face twists. “So, what now, Snart?”

     “Well, I’m _considering_ shooting your brains out”, Snart replies flippantly – except Barry’s very sure he _isn’t._ He hears a tense, gravelly note in Snart’s tone, clashing against his intent, and he realizes that this is furthest from the usually playful banter that he and Snart use.

     “You miscalculated”, Burkhart points out, relatively calmly for someone who has a gun pointed at his head. “Your plan didn’t go so well, now did it? I found your weakness.”

     “Count it as _speculation_ on your part”, Snart growls.

     “So, you are really going to shoot me, then? Are you sure that’s wise, Snart? They will find out. Central City’s underground system _will_ take a significant hit. Will crumble and fall. After we all played so nice at the party tonight… all in vain.”  

     “You remember what happened with Santini? _Wasn’t_ pretty.”

     “I’ll take my chances, thanks. I still have the gun aimed at your sweetheart.”

     “Bodyguard”, says Barry automatically before he can stop himself. Neither of the criminals pay attention to _that. Fine. Ugly pissing contest, no kidding._ In all honesty, Barry would be even more annoyed if he _wasn’t_ staring down at the barrel.

     “So, how is it going to be, Snart?” Burkhart asks pleasantly, and it digs into Barry’s skin in the wrong way.

Snart’s quiet for a moment. Barry tenses; he’s not worried Snart will double-cross him, not really, but this is… less than ideal.

     “How about a deal?”

Burkhart’s eyebrows shoot up until he catches himself and makes his expression haughty, mocking.

     “Really? And what kind of a deal are we talking about here?”

_Is this a competition who can ham up their speech more? Or is it a villain thing?_  

(Barry should really be more concerned about this.)

     “Still interested in those paintings?” 

_It’s a villain thing. Oh my GOD. I hate this._

Burkhart’s quiet. “From the City Gallery?”

     “Ah ah, don’t get greedy. Not _all_ of them. You get two.”

     “Three.”

     “Two and the frames on one. Baroque.”

Barry can see wheels turning and clicking in Burkhart’s head.

     “In exchange of what?” the man asks slowly, words sharp, suspicious under all that velvet. “Of _not_ going after your lanky darling here?” he scoffs and lifts Barry’s chin with the gun’s barrel.

Snart tenses, and the shadows seem to harden his face into cutting edges.

     “Clearly imagination doesn’t mean _smart_ for you, Burkhart”, he snorts. “I don’t care. He really _is_ my eyes, nothing more.”

_Yeah, thanks, asshole._

     “I don’t have enough invested in this”, Burkhart drolls with a sigh and turns toward Snart, _like he’s in control._ Snart doesn’t even blink, but Barry has rarely seen his gaze so utterly _frosty._ “But fine. I will take your deal, Snart. Have the paintings delivered here. And I doubt I need to remind you what will happen if you send me something I _did not order.”_

He smiles. It’s thin and _menacing, saccharine._ It makes Barry _sick._

     “Refreshing making deals with you, Snart. Shall we go down?”

Numb and dumbfounded, Barry follows them outside the office to the corridor.

Apparently Burkhart’s lackies have managed to get the lights back on. Music is back on full swing. Burkhart looks completely at ease, like _none_ of the last fifteen minutes have even happened. It’s all surreal and _weird._  

     “Enjoy the rest of the party.”

And with that, _Burkhart leaves._

Barry gapes after him in utter disbelief, his jaw slack. “Wha – _what the hell just happened?”_

Snart doesn’t relax until Burkhart’s gone down the stairs, and then some of the tension eases from his shoulders. He finally lowers the cold gun.

     “You _just agreed to give him the paintings?”_ he hisses instead. 

     “We’ll talk later. Now, we leave”, Snart says and with such calmness that makes Barry want to punch him in the face.

Grumbling and hating every moment, Barry follows Snart and watches in utter annoyance how Snart expresses his polite farewells and makes a few stupid pleasantries before they finally leave the manor. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the plot's really flimsy and probably full of holes. Thank you for sticking this far.


	4. the aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens after the party.

 

It’s cold outside, but it feels refreshing, crisp to breathe after all that perfume, cologne and stale air.

They manage to drive a few blocks back to Snart’s safe house – number three, if Barry’s not mistaken, _not that he keeps count._ Normally he probably would’ve appreciated it more, but now, he’s just pissed.

The moment they’re inside the apartment, he explodes.

     “Okay, spill. What the hell was that? I mean, he totally _ambushed_ us, and then – _what?_ You just agreed to give him a painting? No, you agreed to give him _two!_ How the hell does that work? What the hell did that accomplish? What the hell were you even searching in his office? Plus, he saw my face, and he talked about some weird stuff, and _what the hell was that?”_  

Snart fixes him a flatly annoyed look as he’s pouring himself a drink of something that looks suspiciously like whisky.

     “Are you finished?” he drawls dryly, and Barry feels completely justified to glare him.

     “Not even close, ‘cause that? That _sucked._ No buffet table is worth all that. I think my blood pressure’s gone through the roof.”

Snart rolls his eyes. “You’re fine. And I wouldn’t worry about Burkhart seeing you – he has no physical evidence, no photographic memory, bad eyesight, the room was poorly lit and none of cameras work…remember? Something you managed to sabotage all by yourself, so pat yourself in the back. Nicely done.”

Barry flushes in anger. “You don’t get to be all evasive on me. You didn’t tell me why we were there. Was this a revenge?”

Snart hums and taps the glass against his chin thoughtfully. “He’s… _very_ interested in the paintings I stole a while ago. Rare artwork, very nice landscapes. Good for open spaces. He, on the other hand, _doesn’t_ play well with competition, so he interfered with my heist.”

     “So – this – this whole thing was over _– over some paintings?”_

     “No, over some principles, _Barry_. I told you, it’s dirty business, and I’m not gonna suck up to him, let him _walk_ all over me and dictate what _I_ can steal. But as it happens, he can be petty.”

     “Oh, _he_ can be petty? I can’t _believe_ this – “

     “I evened the odds, which I was right about since he decided to take some initiative. Now I’ve got the upper hand since we weren’t the only ones causing mischief in that party, he’s gonna have his hands full.”

     “And what if he just – oh, I dunno, just plans to _kill_ you nonetheless?”

Snart stops, and smiles. It’s not a pleasant smile; it’s razor blade- like, sharp, _bleeding._ “Are you worried, Barry?”

     “No, I just don’t want my efforts going to waste”, Barry snaps back.

     “Hmm… while you were doing your little – _sabotage_ , I was doing a little…digging in his room. His personal laptop, for example.” His pale eyes move to Barry’s. “I have a _lot_ of dirt on Burkhart.”

     “Like…like what?”

     “Like records of his operations, deals, business partners, mistresses, etc. He’s not gonna try _anything_ if he wants to enjoy his luxurious life style _.”_

Barry stares.

And stares.

_And stares._

     “You – “ He chokes, shakes his head, feels all fight leave him. He’s just _tired._ “You are an asshole, Snart.”

Snart isn’t offended, he just shrugs. The thin, fine lines around his eyes seem to deepen. Maybe the night is getting to him as well. “Never claimed otherwise, Scarlet. Didn’t kill anyone, though. Just so you know.”

Barry rubs his face, pinches the bridge of his nose and just _sags_ onto Snart’s couch. He lies down, stares at the ceiling. He’s just so _tired._

Snart doesn’t apparently expect him to answer, because he turns and washes the glass in the sink.

The pipes gurgle. It’s quiet, in a familiar, calming way.   

There’s still something that rings in Barry’s ears. Something that –

He hesitates. “Snart?”

     “What is it, Barry.”

Barry swallows, his mouth feels suddenly very dry, and he’s kind of glad he’s already lying down.

      “He – told me you were watching me more than I was watching you. Like, our roles were… reversed.” A pause. “What did he mean?”

Barry feels stupid, telling Snart this, he probably heard anyway, but he – he _wants to know,_ he has to, it’s important, he –

Silence.

Barry’s heart beat quickens.

     “Snart?”

He gets up and tentatively approaches Snart, who still has his back on him. Swallowing thickly, _nervously,_ Barry stops just few steps away and looks at him. Looks at Snart, and something squeezes _painfully_ in his chest.

     “What did he mean?”

Snart’s frozen. His hands grip the sink so hard his knuckles have turned white. The silence is suffocating; tanglening in Barry’s guts, reaching into his throat. His heart pounds so hard he feels like he’s cracking open.

     “You should run along, Red”, Snart grunts.

     “No. No _way._ You’re not driving me away, not with this. Please?” Barry doesn’t care if he’s begging; he can feel this _digging_ into his bones, this burning, biting _thing_ that’s been –

Snart turns so quickly he nearly collides with Barry, who instinctively moves slightly back to give him space. His dark, pale blue eyes bore into his, scathing, _defensive._

     “You’re not giving up, are you?” he snorts.

     “I’d like to hear the truth. For – for once tonight. Okay?”  

     “Nemesis, Barry, you should know better than to trust _crooks.”_

     “I trust you. And you trusted me enough to watch your back.”

Snart’s eyebrows knit together into a hard scowl. “Like I said – was _short_ on options”, he drawls, but there’s an _edge._ This is painfully familiar ground, for both of them, like when Lewis had blackmailed him with Lisa’s _life._

Barry takes a hesitating step forward, looks at Snart and swallows thickly.

     “You’re playing a dangerous game, Barry. Ever thought you might not _like_ the answer?” Snart drones, but keeps his gaze fixed on Barry, gauging him.

     “I think that’s my choice. My decision?” Barry asks with a shaky, _gentle_ smile. Snart’s throat muscles twitch, like he has trouble swallowing.

Inside, Barry is _terrified._

He has no idea what he’s doing, he could potentially destroy _everything,_ their unusual, strange, _amazing_ – relationship? Friendship? But they’ve been through so much together – saving each other, gritting their teeth through it all in frustration, snarking, yet _understanding_ each other through turmoils and pain and trust, _it’s not –_

Barry’s breathing grows slightly more shallow, erratic.

     “I needed you to be quick on your feet unless someone got _some_ fancy ideas to sink a knife into my throat. Didn’t think it through”, Snart says through gnashed teeth, his tone clipped.

     “Why?”

Snart bites the inside of his cheek and glances away from Barry. “Should’ve realized you couldn’t pull the show off.”

_Oh._

Barry’s careful not to let it show, but it _stings._ Hurts. Cracks inside his bones, jagged. He really tried. He really _tried_ to be helpful. He _really_ wanted to help Snart.

     “Shouldn’t have taken you there”, Snart grunts. “Too good for a place like that.”

Barry’s brain hits a blank note, and he stutters: “But – uh, I tried, okay, I even glared at people who tried to – I mean, _I_ didn’t who wanted to stab you, could be all of them, but…”  

     “Your effort was appreciated”, Snart remarks wryly. “Didn’t really expect Burkhart to be _direct._ Dirtying his own little mittens. _”_

     “Well, I don’t think he’s gonna remember some lanky guy who just rambled some stuff?”

     “Not the point, Barry.”

     “Oh, okay.”  

Snart grits his molars together. “The _point_ being that Burkhart wasn’t wrong about them being hungry beasts. They smell fresh blood in the water, and oh, they just _love_ going for the kill.”

     “Meaning – me, I guess?”

     “Apparently my poker face needs some _polishing_ ”, Snart says gruffly. “So, no, I’m _not_ letting a bunch of second-rate thugs try their luck with you.”

Barry shivers; this time, it creates an exciting, _sweet_ tingle, prickling in the pit of his guts. “And they don’t think – I dunno, a bodyguard can handle a few gropes?”  

     “Oh, _now_ you embrace your role, then, huh, Barry?” Snart says with a hint of dry amusement. “Aren’t you adorable.”

     “Hey, now, I can handle unwanted attention, okay? Not the first time, either.”

     “But you were in the middle of crooks and criminals and murderers. Had to step in to avoid a…disaster.”

Barry gazes at him, at Snart’s carefully constructed expression; and he’s right, it’s _not_ as good as it is usually; it’s thin, unravelling.

_Spell it out for me. Say it, please. Tell me why._

     “Just ‘cause of that?” Barry asks quietly, watching him. “Snart. _Leonard.”_

Instantly Snart’s posture snaps straighter, like steel pulling his spine into line, and his eyes burn through Barry’s skull. But Barry’s not backing down; he stares back bravely, his lips trembling.

He can see Snart’s jaw clench tightly together. Silence returns, strangling, heavy, _no, I shouldn’t have pushed, why did I push – I was wrong –_

It’s just few inches between them, their breathing minglening; their gazes locked under hooded eyes, electricity is _tangible in the air –_

     “Didn’t fancy of them touching you”, Snart says roughly, barely moving his lips, his voice just a low grunt. “Didn’t like seeing you on the other end of Burkhart’s gun, either.”

Barry swallows. “Any reason for that?” he whispers back.

Snart doesn’t answer. He’s so _close;_ Barry can feel his warmth soaking through the tuxedo shirt, energy _buzzes_ in Barry’s bones, making him tremble. Snart tracks him with his eyes, unblinking, tense, _waiting._

Barry stops. _Wait._

Snart’s _waiting for him?_

Hesitating, he steps closer; Snart’s eyes narrow slightly, but he doesn’t move away, doesn’t budge, he just angles his head, and Barry’s nearly tearing himself in _half_ with all of the raw _longing_ of him, _of Leonard,_ and it itches under his nails.

     “Are you – are you gonna stop me?” Barry asks breathlessly. His fingers twitch as they move to rest on Snart’s chest.

     “Depends”, Snart murmurs back, and Barry can almost _taste_ the words rather than hear them.

     “On what?”

Snart kisses him.

It’s just a brush against lips, slow, tentative, almost _chaste,_ but the sound Barry makes, is wrenched from his throat _._ Snart withdraws sharply to gaze if he’s stepped over a line, but Barry stares back, dizzy _–_

_It takes a second._

Their mouths crash against each other, in open-mouthed, messy, fervent in all pent-up passion and tension that’s been coiling in their muscles all evening, all these weeks, months, _years._  

Barry lets out a relieved sob and clings onto him, their bodies pressed against each other. Snart feels _blissfully solid and warm under his hands, safe safe, against all reason Barry feels so **safe –**_

Snart deepens the kiss, licking into Barry’s mouth, their tongues sliding against each other, and white-hot _desire_ burn in Barry’s _core,_ this is so _delightfully right, yes, give me, Leonard – Len –_

Lack of air forces them to part, ever so slightly, and Barry chases blindly Snart’s mouth, desperate, but _stupidly happy._ He’s still clutching Snart’s front.

     “My, my, my, Barry… “ Snart says, and his voice is _deliciously_ rough, low with all gravel and lazily drawn vowels. Barry could’ve been fooled by his tone, but the way his eyes burn dark with arousal doesn’t leave much for imagination.  

     “A – are you on board with this?” Barry gasps. They’re so close their breathing’s minglening. “’Cause I – I’m very much on board with this.”

Snart hums. “Really. I _might_ be persuaded.” His hand sneaks around Barry’s waist and pulls him close. His hands rest firm on Barry, so _warm._ Barry gazes at him and whispers:

     “Kiss me again.”

Snart’s eyes darken, grow heavy, _burning,_ and with a swift move, he’s pinned Barry against the counter and kisses him hard enough to make their teeth clash. It scalds beneath Barry’s skin, he _can’t have enough,_ Snart slips his hands under Barry’s shirt and _yes, skin, skin contact, it feels so good,_ he can feel every callous on Snart _…_

_Closer –_

_Come closer –_

He angles his head so Snart has a better access, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by the man, either – Snart makes a deep, growling noise in the back of his throat and presses scorching kisses down Barry’s neck, like he’s determined to _devour_ him.

Barry arches into Snart, his hands grasping Snart’s neck, trying to anchor him.

     “Leonard – _Len – “_

Snart pauses and pulls back and gazes into Barry’s eyes, watching him closely, _like he can’t believe, like he’s_ burning every passing second of this into his memory.

Both of them, out of breath, just stare at each other – this _moment_ feels huge, _monumental_ between them, breaking loose from the very seams, something that they’ve both _wanted,_ so much, so desperately, it’s now bare in front of them, _allowed_ to them.

     “I’m afraid you have to try a little harder than that to get me to bed, Red”, Snart finally says, and Barry’s stupidly pleased to hear how haggard, _husky_ he sounds.

Barry beams at him, breathless and unbelievably _giddy,_ his thumbs stroking gentle circles on the back of Snart’s neck.

     “Yeah?” he asks and hums in contentment as Snart pats his sides. It feels nice. Intimate. “It’s okay. But if I gotta play a bodyguard again, I think I’m gonna pass. No offense.”

He snorts. “Don’t worry, wasn’t gonna suggest. Better keep _you_ un-stabbed, as it were.”

     “Pfft, with the friends you keep, yeah, _sure_. I kinda liked their food, though.”

     “Dinner, then?”

Snart’s expression doesn’t change, it’s still challenging, _cocky_ in the way that’s so infuriatingly familiar.

Barry gapes.

     “You’re asking - ?” Okay. _Holy shit._ He can do this. He can _totally_ do this. “Uh, sure? I mean, I’m kinda hungry.”

     ”The least I can do for making you suffer at a _classy_ party.”

     “Pfft, you’re a liar, it wasn’t classy. You don’t even think it was classy. It was kinda gaudy. Besides, no one even licked their knives.”

     “Sorry to disappoint you.”

Barry laughs; it bubbles out of his chest, free and stupid and _alive._ “I’m not disappointed. Terrified, _yeah,_ ‘cause did you see all those people? Yeah, _no._ But not disappointed. Although I kinda wanted to kick your ass.”

     “Can hardly blame you for that. Sorry. For lying.”

     “Yeah, that’s why you’re paying.”   

Snart frowns, moves his head a little sharply as if he’s startled, _surprised_ , but Barry just smiles softly, _gently_. He grins and presses a kiss on Snart’s mouth. Snart doesn’t freeze, but he slowly relaxes, _melts_ against Barry, closes his eyes and kisses back slowly, lazily, like he’s determined to enjoy every _passing second._

     “Was that okay?” Barry whispers and nudges him slightly with his nose.

     “Never could stay away from the danger, huh, Barry?” he drawls, but there’s a wry, playful quirk tugging his lips.

     “Depends on the danger, I guess”, Barry murmurs.

     “Got you, did I?”

     “With those puns and the fluffy parka and being insufferably smug like I can see _you are right now,_ I can see it _on your face!_ Can’t imagine how the hell that happened”, Barry says, but he’s grinning, his dimples blooming in sight.

Snart hums, and his gaze is so _bare,_ without ice, without _glacier_ , calculating glint _,_ it’s bare, _all there for Barry to see._

     “Vices and all, Barry”, he says, his hard edges softening into something almost affectionate. “Now, how about that dinner?”

     “I think it’s more like late night snack. I’m game?”

     “Fine. Let’s go.”

They end up getting burgers for some _weird reason,_ but this is happening, and Barry is _so on board with this –_ whatever it is.

+

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm finally done! My first multi-chaptered plot fic, finished, thank god! This has made me anxious at times, but I'm happy I finally did this. Thank you for reading, for supporting me, for comments and kudos, you are all amazing <3

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback's always welcome, and if you see any weird grammar mistakes or if I use idioms wrong, please tell me, not a native speaker! Thank you for reading! :)


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